


Blighted Wood

by mishaberlioz



Category: Uprooted - Naomi Novik
Genre: Adventure, Attempted Sexual Assault, Drama, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, M/M, POV Lesbian Character, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishaberlioz/pseuds/mishaberlioz
Summary: Agnieszka spent the first seventeen years of her life thinking that she was an ordinary village girl, and that she and Kasia were best friends and nothing more. But when the Choosing Ceremony turns her life upside down, she is forced to come to terms with who she is and what Kasia means to her.
Relationships: Agnieszka & The Dragon | Sarkan, Agnieszka/Kasia (Uprooted), the dragon/original character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

The first few days in the Dragon's tower dragged by in a haze of misery. Every morning I'd do my utmost to make myself presentable and put together a satisfactory meal. And every morning, I would face the Dragon's icy stare. I never could manage to please him.

_Vanastalem. Lirintalem._ I came to dread the sound of those two words. The Dragon never explained himself, but I knew what he was doing - he was draining my life to feed his spells. And every day he would transform my clothes, and I would find myself limp with exhaustion and cocooned in a voluminous silk ball gown. It would be all I could do to drag myself back to my room and collapse on my bed. And then it would all start again the next morning.

As the days went by, I found that I was growing accustomed to whatever the Dragon was doing to me. It was still horrible and exhausting, but I no longer felt quite so wrung out afterwards. This turned out to be a mixed blessing though, because instead of collapsing into an exhausted sleep, I was left all alone in that elegant room with my thoughts.

One day, I was lying on my bed and listlessly darning a rip in my stockings. The sun was warm on my face, and when I glanced out the window, I was shocked to see that it was a lovely fall day. The sunlight painted the fields in gold, and the trees were ablaze with the fires of autumn. It felt like a very long time since the Dragon took me away from home. Somehow I had expected to see the world in the icy grip of winter. But I realized that not much time had passed at all.

Suddenly I was drowning in a flood of memories. I could smell wood smoke and fresh-cut hay, and hear the voices of the villagers singing out in the fields.

I remembered riding beside Kasia on a wagon piled high with hay, laughing and tossing bits of straw at each other. Helping my mother make pies, cramming berries into our mouths when her back was turned. And I remembered that September afternoon, sitting in the old apple tree behind my house, when Kasia taught me how to kiss.

We must have been about ten or eleven. The day was warm and golden, with just a hint of crispness in the air. We were stuffing ourselves with apples and talking about everything under the sun, when Kasia suddenly grew quiet.

"Matthias kissed me yesterday."

My mouth fell open and I stared at her. Some of the other girls already had stories about kissing and holding hands with boys, but it had always seemed like something out of a storybook. Now it was real.

"What - what was it like?" I asked, because that was what you were supposed to say. A hard lump settled in my stomach.

"Wet," she said matter-of-factly. "He sort of drooled into my mouth. And he tasted like pickles."

"Ugh." I wrinkled my nose. "If that's what it's like, why does everyone like it so much?"

"I don't know. Why are you asking me?"

I tugged on one of her braids. "Because you know _everything."_

Kasia looked at me thoughtfully. She was so close that I could feel her hair brushing my cheek. Neither of us moved.

And then she leaned forward and kissed me.

Her lips were soft and tasted like apples and I felt a little bit dizzy but in a nice way. It only lasted a second, and then we broke apart and stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"Was it…" My voice had gone all wobbly. "Was it like that with Matthias too?"

She shook her head and smiled shyly at me and I felt a warm glow of happiness in my chest.

I turned away from the window, drying my face on my sleeve. We had never talked about that day again. Without saying anything, we had both understood that we could never do it again, that there would be trouble if anyone found out. So I hadn't mentioned it, no matter how much I'd wanted to. And now it didn't matter anymore.

I sat down on the bed, and my gaze fell on one of the puffy silk ball gowns that the Dragon had made with his magic. It wasn't enough for him to lock me up in this tower - he had to trap me inside a cocoon of silk and whalebone that barely allowed me to move or breathe.

Looking at the dress, I felt a flare of anger. At the Dragon, for taking me away from the home I loved. At my family, for letting him do it, even though they had no choice. At my village, and all the villages, for letting him take our girls year after year. And...at Magic itself, that mysterious force that let him drain out my life to perform his spells. But if a stupid little peasant girl like me dared to try a spell, of course nothing would happen. I let out a bitter laugh.

" _Vanalem_ ," I muttered, and twitched a hand at the useless dress.

I knew I'd said it wrong, but...I felt something. The dress still looked the same, but my fingertips were tingling with the strange energy. My heart was pounding in my chest. Without thinking, I tried it again, with more force.

" _Vanalem!"_

Power surged through me like a wave, nearly knocking me off my feet. When it faded, my skin was prickling all over and I felt like my hair was standing on end. And instead of the ridiculous silk contraption was a simple homespun dress just like my mother used to make.

I stared at the dress and cautiously picked it up. It felt perfectly normal. I even bit it experimentally, and waited a few minutes to see if it would disappear like in the stories. But the dress was still there, and I was faced with the undeniable fact that I had done real magic.

I held my hand in front of my face and stared at it, unable to fathom what had happened. I had done real magic. Something the Dragon had done must have rubbed off, and now I, who had spent my entire life following instructions, could give orders and Magic would obey.

I sat down on the bed, wondering if I was losing my mind. I decided that there was only one way to find out. I got up and went over to the desk, where I had been saving an apple for a snack. I pointed at it and said, " _Lirintalem!"_

It had just the effect I wanted. The apple disappeared and was replaced by a warm, sweet-smelling apple pie with a golden crust. I grabbed it and sat down on my bed, my mind reeling. I had done real Magic. I wasn't just Agnieszka of Dverknik anymore - the Dragon had turned me into something else. Something inhuman. And even if I made it through my ten years, I could never go back home to my village. I wasn't that girl anymore.

But I couldn't dwell on these gloomy reflections for very long. After a few moments, I fell back onto the pillows and sank into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

I slept clear through until the next morning, and woke up with the first rays of dawn. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up. Fortunately I’d had the sense to put the apple pie on the night table so I didn’t roll over it in my sleep. I was suddenly ravenous, and devoured it in two bites. 

For the Dragon’s breakfast I prepared a tray with a bowl of buckwheat porridge. As usual, I tried to keep myself tidy and failed miserably. By the time I reached the library, I was dusty and stained as usual, and the food was already growing cold. 

I hesitated. I was nervous about trying the spells again. What if nothing happened and it turned out that I had imagined the whole thing? But still, if I didn’t do something, I would have to go through the usual ordeal. 

I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was Kasia.  _ She  _ wouldn’t be nervous about casting a silly little spell. 

I opened my eyes, held my hand out over the food and cast  _ Lirintalem.  _ Just like that, the humble porridge was replaced by a creamy, delicious-smelling dish that I had never seen before. I let out a delighted laugh. 

Next, I used  _ Vanalem  _ on my clothes and found myself in a perfectly clean and tidy wool dress. The dishes on the tray rattled dangerously as I swayed on my feet. I was exhausted, but enormously pleased with myself. 

Then I felt a sudden chill, and an icy voice spoke from behind me. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

My heart sank to somewhere in the vicinity of my boots. I briefly considered throwing the tray in his face and fleeing for my life, but I knew that would only make things worse. Slowly, I turned around to face my doom. 

The Dragon glared down at me, his arms folded over his chest. 

“How long have you been able to perform magic on your own?” he demanded. 

“O-only since last night,” I said, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. “I-I didn’t mean to, I said the word and it just  _ happened…”  _

“Yes, that is indeed how spellcasting works,” he snapped. “What I don’t understand is why you tried a childish stunt like this instead of telling me.”

I hung my head, feeling rather like a small child receiving a scolding. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I - I thought you’d be angry…”

“Well, I am not exactly thrilled with your progress,” he said sarcastically. “But why would I be angry that you are finally starting to absorb some fragments of what I’ve been trying to teach you?”

I gawked at him. “ _ Teach  _ me?” 

“Yes, teach you! As we’ve been doing day after day since you arrived! Did you think I was repeating those cantrips for my own entertainment?”

“I...I didn’t know what you were doing,” I stammered. “I thought - I thought you needed my energy for the magic, and - “

“I have brought down walls and bewitched armies!” he barked. “Do you think I need your power for a simple cantrip?”

“I - I didn’t know what to think,” I said, staring at my feet. “You didn’t tell me what you were doing…”

The Dragon blinked at me and for a moment he looked taken aback. “You...really didn’t know? You weren’t being dense on purpose?”

I shook my head, feeling about two inches tall. 

He glared at me. “I suppose you also expect me to explain to you that objects fall down instead of up,” he growled. “Now, come on. Let’s see if you’ve got a brain in that head of yours.”

***

“I don’t understand it!” The Dragon dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s simple! Why can’t you do it?”

I slumped back in my seat and looked at the sheet of parchment with the details of the spell written on it. The Dragon was trying to teach me a simple fire spell. It was one of the easiest spells taught to novice wizards, and yet I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around it.

“You flap your hands about too much,” the Dragon told me. “You need to be more precise in your movements. And don’t mumble.”

I sighed. We had been practising the spell for three days without much success. The best I had been able to do was generate a few sparks. It was starting to look like I was just as talented at magic as I was at cooking and cleaning and all the rest - that is to say, not very. 

But that was no excuse for laziness, I told myself. At home, my chores had to get done, whether I was good at them or not. And magic was the same way. 

I sat up straight and carefully performed the gestures while pronouncing each syllable. Light flared from my hand, and I felt a flicker of hope. But then I yelped as my fingers were seared by a sudden heat. The spell fizzled out and I stuck my sore fingers into my mouth. The Dragon watched me with a look of mild despair. 

“I think that was a bit better than before,” I said hopefully. “What did I do wrong?”

The Dragon leaned his head on his hands. “It would be easier to list the things that you did right. But...I can’t seem to think of any.”

“All right,” I sighed. “I’ll try it again. 

***

Our days fell into a predictable routine. After breakfast we would set ourselves up at the big table in the library, where the Dragon would attempt to demonstrate some magical technique, which I would have to replicate. It always seemed simple when he explained it, but somehow I always managed to get it wrong in inexplicable ways. 

“I don’t understand it,” the Dragon said one day as we swept up the swarm of beetles that I had conjured by accident. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

By noon or early afternoon, he would throw up his hands in despair, deem me unteachable and storm off. The first time I was quite upset, but after the third or fourth instance, I learned to take it in stride. 

After that, I would be left to my own devices. I usually used the time to practise the spells the Dragon had been teaching me, or searched for other spellbooks in his vast library. When I found myself unable to cast another spell, I would tidy up around the tower or curl up with a book. By evening, I would collapse into bed and fall asleep at once. 

It was a relief to be busy. Back in the village, I had spent most of my time cooking and cleaning and sewing clothes, or working in the fields when they needed a spare hand. I was no stranger to hard work, and I simply turned my efforts towards magic. And while my successes were rare and hard-won, each one was like a tiny sip of some new and delicious drink that only made me want more. 

One night, I was sitting in the library, trying to understand a new spell. My candle was nearly burnt out, and I was so tired that the symbols were starting to swim in front of my eyes. 

I heard a soft footfall and looked up to see the Dragon standing over me with a candle in his hand. 

“What do you think you’re doing? It’s the middle of the night!”

“I - I’m almost done,” I said, and stifled a yawn. “I just want to get this spell right…”

He studied me for a moment, an odd expression on his face. 

“You may be both hopeless and incompetent,” he said, frowning down at me, “but no one could accuse you of laziness. Now put that away and go to bed. Only a fool attempts magic when short on sleep.”

“It’s all right,” I protested. “I’m not tired, really - “

He cut me off with a glare. “I was referring to myself!” he snapped. “How am I supposed to get any sleep knowing that you could bring the tower down on my head at any moment?”

I sighed. “I’m not going to bring the tower down,”

“I’m not so sure of that,” he growled. “Now, go! Out!”

I went off obediently to my room. I could feel him glaring at me, but it no longer made me quake in my boots. Somewhere along the line I had stopped being afraid of him.

But then, I reflected, it was difficult to be frightening and mysterious when you were half asleep and wearing a nightshirt. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Attempted sexual assault (description is similar to the event in Chapter 3 of canon text)  
> N

Several weeks went by in this fashion. The last few leaves shrivelled on the branches and the snows gently blanketed the ground in white. Back home, they would be settling in for the long, dark winter - my brothers and father out chopping wood, my mother at home carding wool, and Kasia, knitting by the fire, her golden hair loose about her shoulders, a faraway expression on her face...

But I couldn’t let myself think about that. Just like I couldn’t let myself think about the last night before the Choosing...

I had given up all hope of escaping back to my village. The Dragon had explained that the King had decreed that all subjects with magic ability must be trained by an experienced practitioner. If I ran away, I would be guilty of treason, and so would anyone who sheltered me. And if I was very unlucky, the Wood might take me and turn me into something truly horrible. 

I knew I couldn’t go home, and I would never again be little Agnieszka of Dvernik. I buried myself in my work, and soon the world outside my window seemed like nothing more than a painting, lovely and unreal.

But one day, the Dragon turned my routine existence upside down with the news that Prince Marek was coming to see him. 

“Prince Marek is coming  _ here? _ ” I gawked at him, dumbfounded. “When? Why?”

“Don’t look so starry-eyed,” he snapped. “Never mind what the songs and poems say - the man is an arrogant buffoon. Just stay out of the way until he leaves.”

That tempered my excitement a bit, but not enough to keep me from watching avidly from my window as the royal carriage rumbled up to the tower. Everyone knew about Prince Marek, the king’s handsome and dashing younger son. He had slain the Vandalus Hydra, fought a giant, and killed a hundred men in the last great battle against Rosya. He had never taken a wife, but he was so handsome that young women fell in love with him wherever he went. At least that was what the bards said, and if they were  _ all  _ saying it, there had to be some truth to it. 

I saw the Dragon walk out towards the carriage just as Prince Marek descended from it. He was tall and well-built, just like in the songs. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they seemed to be having some sort of argument. Then they turned and headed into the tower. I caught a glimpse of the Dragon’s face - he looked like a thundercloud. I swallowed hard, wondering if he would lose his temper and cast a spell on the Prince. He certainly looked close to it.

They settled themselves in the library. I could just hear the murmur of their voices from outside the door, but I couldn’t make out more than one word in five. I was desperately curious to know what they were talking about, but I was terrified of what would happen if the Dragon caught me eavesdropping. Instead, I made frequent trips from my room to the kitchen on the pretext of getting something to eat, and stopped to listen as much as I dared. All I could understand was that the Prince wanted the Dragon’s help with something, something to do with the Wood, and something about Queen Hanna, who had died nearly twenty years before. 

I was returning from one such trip with an apple in my hand when I realized that the voices had stopped and the library was dark. I wouldn’t get any more spying done in that case. I sighed and went back to my room and stopped short. Prince Marek was standing by my bed, looking out the window and the moonlit valley.

“M-my lord, highness - “ I squeaked. 

He turned around and his eyebrows rose. “Goodness. Where on earth did he find  _ you _ ?”

“Er,” I said. It was too surreal, to have the Prince of Polnya standing in my room and grinning at me. “In...Dvernik? The village...I mean, that’s where he found me…”

“Not a brain either, I see.” He laughed and pulled me close against him. “That’s all right. The clever ones are more trouble than they’re worth.” And then he leaned down and pressed his mouth against mine. 

It was only then that I began to understand what was happening. I still couldn’t quite believe it, but I squirmed in his grasp and tried to push him away. 

He dragged me towards the bed, hardly noticing when I struggled. 

“My lord,” I gasped. “Please - don’t - “

“Hush, now, it’s all right,” he said, and reached for my skirts. 

I tried to shove him away but he laughed and grabbed my wrists, holding me immobile with hardly any effort. I felt a surge of panic, and - 

“ _ Vanastalem!”  _

I shrieked the spell without knowing what I was doing. Power flowed out of me, and there was an explosion of bright colours and soft fabric. Prince Marek let out a yell and lurched towards me. I darted out of the way and he toppled onto the floor, shouting curses. 

I stared down at him, frozen. His fine clothes were gone, and instead he was swaddled in a mess of lace and orange silk. It took me a moment to recognize it as a ballgown, of the kind that the Dragon had dressed me in. The skirts were so wide that it looked as if he were wearing an umbrella, and the fabric was an eye-watering shade of orange. 

“You  _ witch _ !” He tore at the whalebone corset, his face purple with rage. “I can’t breathe! Get this off me!”

He made a grab for my ankles and I dodged out of the way and ducked into the dark corridor, slamming the door behind me. I could still hear him raging and struggling behind the door. I held the door shut with all my might, but if he managed to get up and open it, my strength would be no match for his - 

I heard hurried footsteps on the stair and the Dragon burst out into the hallway, candlestick in hand. 

“What is it?” he demanded. “What’s the matter?” 

I had never thought I would actually be grateful to see the Dragon, but I was. 

“I - it was Prince Marek - “ I gestured frantically towards the room. “He came, and he - he - “

“He what?” The Dragon’s face darkened and he moved closer and peered down at me. “What did he do? Are you injured?”

“N-no,” I managed. “I-I was afraid, so I cast a spell, and - “

“A  _ spell?  _ By all the gods…” He pushed past me, tugged the door open and stuck his head in. He took one look at the raging Prince, then slammed the door, and leaned against it. His face was carefully composed and I could see him taking deep breaths to his nose. 

“You - “ His mouth twitched and he forced it into a rigid line. “You cast Vanastalem. On the Prince.”

“I’m sorry,” I cried. “I just said it without thinking!“

The Dragon didn’t answer, just tightened his jaw and stared at the wall behind me. I watched him anxiously. If it had been anyone else, I would have sworn that he was trying not to laugh, but...that was impossible. The Dragon never laughed. 

Once his face was composed, he opened the door again and cried, “ _ Kalikual!”  _ Peering nervously over his shoulder, I saw that the prince was collapsed in a heap of tangled fabric, snoring gently. 

I felt a wave of relief and sank to the ground, leaning against the wall. The Dragon rounded on me at once. 

“What’s the matter with you? Are you hurt?”

I opened my eyes, wondering why he cared. “No.”

“Are you going to faint?” he asked, eyeing me warily. “Or...or cry?”

“No,” I sighed. 

He nodded briskly and tugged on my arm. “Then come with me and try to pay attention. I can’t let him go home remembering that performance of yours.”

I followed him into my room. “Are you going to make him forget what happened?”

The Dragon snorted. “No. A blank space is too suspicious. I’ll have to leave another memory in its place.” He thought for a moment. “Let’s see...you were prancing down the stairs and spilled a tray of food on him, and he decided not to risk his health by getting any closer to you than he needed to.”

I didn’t argue with the story. The Dragon moved closer to the unconscious prince and murmured a complicated spell that I would never recall in a thousand years. A web of shimmering blue appeared around Prince Marek’s head, pulsing as the Dragon fed power into it. I watched, fascinated, as he went on weaving the spell. Finally, he stopped speaking and the blue mesh disappeared. 

The Dragon sat down heavily on the corner of my bed and leaned against the wall, looking exhausted. The Prince slept on in the middle of the room like an island of silk and lace. 

“I’ve never seen  _ Vanastalem _ used offensively,” the Dragon said, frowning. “But I suppose only you could produce such a supremely impractical garment.”

“It’s exactly like the ones you put me in!” I cried indignantly. “You can hardly move in those skirts, and the corset is so tight you can’t breathe - “

“Well, how was I to know that?” he growled. “It’s not as if I wear the things myself. Besides, I thought girls all wanted to be princesses.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But I suppose even princesses would like to be able to walk.”

I moved towards the sleeping prince and nervously cast  _ Vanalem.  _ Much to my relief, the dress disappeared and was replaced by the Prince’s own clothes. 

The Dragon blinked and looked at me in surprise. “Where did you learn that?” he demanded. “I never taught you how to do that.”

“Oh,” I said, a bit embarrassed. “Well, I think I said it wrong to start with, but it worked all right so I kept doing it.”

“Of course you did.” The Dragon shook his head, sighing. 

After a few moments, he glanced in my direction. “You peasants are used to brute labour, aren’t you?”

I ignored the rather unflattering tone of that statement. “Er...yes, I suppose so.”

“Good. Then you can help me carry him back to his room.”


End file.
